


Waste Away With Me

by Crazyhotsoup



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyhotsoup/pseuds/Crazyhotsoup
Summary: "To mourn is to waste away until you are fed the honeyed milk of love and the bread of acceptance."
Relationships: Sadie Adler & Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler/Charlotte Balfour
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Waste Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darling_Jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darling_Jack/gifts).



> This is for a dear friend whom I admire far more highly than they will ever know. My dear, thank you for letting me write for you. I know this is short, and it's only the first chapter and I have a track record of not updating like ever, but I swear the second chapter is in the works.

Sadie stared into Arthur’s bloodshot eyes. He looked worn out. His skin was pockmarked and burst capillaries littered his cheeks. The deep-set, bruise-like dark circles told her all she needed to know: Arthur Morgan, her friend and the only thing keeping her with the gang, was dying. 

She should’ve noticed sooner than she had. He had been losing substantial weight, but she had chalked that up to Guarma, along with the rest of his ailments. Whatever had been lying dormant before their spontaneous vacation, had been kick-started in that blazing heat and burning sun. 

“Mrs. Adler, I’m not going to lie to you, I am dying.” Arthur looked at his feet as he spoke, as if he was ashamed. She swallowed back her knee-jerk reaction to poke and tease. 

“What’ve you got, Arthur?” An unmistakable shame washed over his face as he met her gaze. He shifted uncomfortably before replying. 

“I’ve got Tuberculosis.” As if on cue, Arthur twisted and hacked out a series of wet coughs. Blood splattered on the dirt and he shakily wiped away a string of spit with his sleeve. 

Tb was a wicked beast. Taking and taking and, eventually, draining the afflicted of all life. She had heard disturbed stories of folks a few years back mistaking it for a vampire. Sadie had nearly thrown up when Jake had described in great detail what the insane townsfolk had done to one unfortunate girl’s body. How he had heard of the story was beyond her, but she knew that it would never leave her mind. 

Looking at Arthur, she saw the signs. The bloodshot eyes, the pale skin, the deep reds, the thin frame, everything had pointed to the awful disease, but she had not looked. 

“Mrs. Adler, I have a couple friends, Charlotte Balfour and Hamish Sinclair, she lives up past Annesburg. Her husband died not too long ago, and she was doing alright when I left her last, but I ain’t in any condition to visit her. Same with Hamish, the both of them were expecting me to visit, but everything here is,” Arthur trailed off and gestured towards the camp. “It ain’t gonna last. Will you do me a favor, Mrs. Adler? Will you check in on both of them? I wrote something for Hamish,” Arthur produced a folded letter and what appeared to be torn pages from his journal. He held out the papers and she stared up at the man. Sadie gingerly took the proffered documents and chewed the inside of her lip. 

“If this is what you want, Arthur, I’ll do it.” He nodded in thanks and turned to leave. 

“Arthur,” The man paused and looked down at her, “I’m sorry we didn’t see it sooner.” His expression pinched in the way only the terminally ill could. 

“There’s no hope for me, Mrs. Adler. Least I can do is try to make up for all the shit I did.” He made his way towards camp. Sadie watched as he raised to his full height and turned her gaze to the papers in her hands. 

The first was a journal entry. She skimmed the page. Arthur had met a hermit and had gone fishing. Her face twisted into a smile despite herself. The second described how he had ran across a grieving starving widow. He had taught her how to shoot and how to skin a rabbit. She glanced at the folded letter, but left it closed. 

A man’s last words were private.


End file.
